Content Creators, Culture’s Crisis

Today, we will dig deeper into what I wrote last week. There’s no need to write an introduction:

The Rise of Viral Nothingness

This week, I found myself yelling at a Tiktok trend. A man in Manchester, microphone in hand, accosting strangers with the question, “What is the worst UK accent?” There was no curiosity in his voice, no wit in his approach—only the cold calculation of someone prospecting for viral gold in a digital wasteland. Against my better judgment, I became complicit, another unwilling participant in his hunt for empty spectacle. My aversion to this particular strain of online opportunism has evolved beyond mere irritation. It’s a persistent ache—a gnawing sense that something essential is being hollowed out, not just on the internet, but within us.

Last week, I wrote about my mounting resentment towards the digital world as a whole; today, I feel compelled to probe deeper. Everywhere I look, I see the same hollow rituals: engagement farming and rage bait. The tragedy is not simply that these things exist, but that they flourish. Genuine moments, rare as gold in a landfill, are buried beneath the weight of all this nothingness. Just days ago, I learned that one of my favourite YouTubers is quitting—to reclaim his life from the algorithm’s grip.

Let’s focus on the street interview: Here, an aspiring influencer—microphone and ego in tow—prowls the streets, desperate for a “hawk tuah” moment, hoping a passerby will hand them a viral soundbite. These creators—if the word applies—offer nothing of their own. They are neither curious nor insightful, not even inadvertently amusing. Their only talent is siphoning authenticity from others, hoping it might cling to them by proximity. It is a grotesque form of fame: parasitic, performative, utterly devoid of substance. Yet the real tragedy is not their existence, nor their persistence, but our complicity. We watch, we comment, we share. We feed the cycle. The running joke—that podcast microphones should require a licence—stings because it’s true. The internet is awash with emptiness, and we are all swept along in the current.

There’s a moment in the latest season of White Lotus: Aimee Lou Wood’s character, beset by a persistent suitor, delivers a line with surgical precision—“Hooking up with you would be an empty experience.” Why? “Because you’re soulless.” That line should have shocked us into awareness, yet it hardly registered. We have become so accustomed to curated emptiness, to performative vacancy, that we no longer recognise it as a problem. We reward it. We idolise it. We turn it into a career. This is the heart of the matter: We are living in an era where emptiness is not just tolerated, but celebrated. Not in an accidental, careless way, but as a carefully constructed persona—a performance of nothingness, broadcast for viral acclaim. Engagement farming isn’t about curiosity, humour, or insight; it’s the public exhibition of vacancy, the desperate trawling for something—anything—to fill the void where a self should be.

So, the next time you see a street interview, a podcast clip, or another piece of rage bait, ask yourself the question one interviewee posed: “What are you doing, and why are you doing it?” That is the question we should all confront before we put anything online. If the answer is “for engagement,” for the hollow applause of strangers, perhaps it’s time to step away from the microphone. To live a little, to figure out who you are and what you believe before you start soliciting hot takes for the algorithm. Because if we don’t, we risk becoming exactly what we consume: empty, soulless, and celebrated for it. And that, I fear, is a fate far worse than irrelevance.

It’s not all dark out there

Let me take a moment to step back—I don’t wish to appear as just another middle-aged man complaining about the internet. I have no desire to be the one who stifles creativity or mocks those who are keen to experiment. There’s a particular self-righteousness in blanket negativity that I wish to avoid. My concern isn’t with creating itself or the desire to craft something meaningful from personal interests and passions.

Despite its clutter, the internet remains a vast and occasionally fascinating space where one can discover a plethora of insightful, humorous, or genuinely intriguing voices. With this in mind, and aiming not only to identify the issues but also to propose some solutions, I would like to share four Youtubers whom I genuinely appreciate. While my selections reflect my personal preferences, they may resonate with a broader audience. There are remarkable creators available for every taste; these are just a few of my favourites. You may even find something special among them.

→ If you’ve ever wondered how art, film, and culture intersect with the everyday, Nerdwriter1 is your essential guide. With incisive essays and a knack for uncovering meaning in the seemingly mundane, each video is a masterclass in seeing the world—and its stories—through sharper, more curious eyes.

→ Step into the world of Tanita Dee, where language, culture, and curiosity collide. With warmth and wit, Tanita unpacks the quirks of life, explores cross-cultural moments, and invites you to see the familiar in a fresh, delightful light. Whether you’re a language enthusiast or simply curious about life’s little oddities, Tanita Dee’s channel is a charming and insightful companion.

→ If you seek a sharp and insightful unravelling of, say, the Drake vs. Kendrick feud, Josh Johnson is the one for you. With the timing of a seasoned comic and the clarity of a true explainer, he dissects hip-hop’s biggest rivalry—making sense of the music, the egos, and the absurdity—so that anyone can follow along and enjoy a laugh in the process.

→ Discover the joy of creating and repairing with Anne of All Trades. Whether she’s woodworking, farming, or reviving traditional crafts, Anne brings warmth, skill, and an infectious curiosity to every project. Her channel is an inspiring invitation to roll up your sleeves, learn something new, and reconnect with the satisfaction of hands-on creativity.

Thank you for reading. The worst UK accent is Brummie, by the way.